


Simple in Complexity

by I_Otaku



Series: Amnesty [3]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Indrid pines over Duck, M/M, Really just me learning how to write these two because I NEED HAPPINESS RIGHT NOW, References to Depression, Trans Duck Newton, Vague indruck, last chapter talks about, study of duck newton from Indrid's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:40:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Otaku/pseuds/I_Otaku
Summary: For a man who claims to be incredibly simple, Indrid can see that Duck Newton really isn't.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Indrid visits Duck's apartment it's a pit stop on the way to Amnesty lodge. Indrid is  seeing as he is wont to do, he’s peering forward onto the path of the pineguard. He goes deeper, following the likely paths, and deeper, and deeper, he dully ears Duck crank the heat in his old station wagon. He’s jumping branch to branch, hand scribbling on a legal pad and tearing pages off to sketch more- and then everything so white and searing pain shoots through his head. He shudders and the path starts again from the beginning, he hunches forward and crumples all the papers that are strewn across his lap. His ears are ringing and when he hears the thrum of the car again Duck is also talking.

“Hey- Indrid- Fuck- alright. We’re not gonna make it to the lodge then, hold on. I’m takin’ you to my place.”

Duck parks and throws his seatbelt off, he turns to the passenger seat where Indrid is still sitting, head clutched in his hands. “Here-” He reaches over to pop Indrid’s seat belt buckle before he pushes his door open and walks around the hood of the car. Indrid takes the help getting out of his seat, but he can hobble well enough up the stairs to Duck’s door. 

Duck fumbles with his keys for a few moments before pushing it open, he pulls off his coat and hangs it on the rack. 

“Won’t be long,” He mumbles, bending down and prying off his boots. “While I’m here- gotta feed Fig and get some spare clothes. All my shit’s gettin’ torn up-” He continues mumbling as he moves further in, although he stops and drops his keys in a bowl, and lays his hat next to the bowl. 

Indrid falls back against the door, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. His head is still pounding, but he takes a few deep breaths of clear filtered air. The entryway is warmer than he was expecting, Indrid takes a few spare moments to breath and look around. There’s a small cluster of photos hung up, most of them of wildlife and trees. There’s one of Duck and another park ranger, one of the pineguard, a few candid shots of amnesty sylvans and Mama. The walls are a simple beige, aside from the photos the walls are rather bare. It’s warm and it smells like earth, pine trees. It's homey. 

Duck is presumably as gone as he is going to get, and Indrid takes a shaky breath. He attempts to kick off his shoes to go inside, only to trip and stumble to regain his footing- he grabs the coat rack hanging on the wall and mumbles to himself. He continues to mumble to himself and clenches his hands, feeling his head slowly stop swimming. He tries again to kick off one of his shoes only to sigh and give up, he fists his hand in the coat he had grabbed onto. It feels good. Confused, Indrid lifts a coat from the rack by the door and holds it in his hands. 

It's one of Duck's thicker ranger coats. It's lined with fleece, and the fabric has a fair bit of resistance as Indrid squeezes it. There aren't patches or pins- but there are scuff marks. Duck hasn’t chosen to decorate it, that would be impractical in his line of work (distracting or abrasive to wildlife, he could lose pins or pin backs in the woods). But there are scars along the fabric as Indrid looks at it. It’s a canvas. 

“Indrid?” Duck calls, appearing back in the hallway. He’s untucked his shirt and his hair has been messily finger combed. Indrid looks up and clears his throat-

“My apologies- I was-”

“Oh, yeah that’s my favorite.” Duck interrupts, trudging back to the doorway and grabbing one of the loose sleeves hanging down. He mumbles something to himself as he inspects the cuff. When he finds what he’s looking for he turns it to his friend with a smile. “Check it out,” Indrid blinks, adjusting his glasses as he leans down to look. There’s a long cut up the cuff, but it’s been sewn back together with an impressive amount of care. There’s a small amount of fraying at the end but it’s clean.

“What happened?” Indrid asks.

“It’s fuckin’ hilarious-” Duck gives a deep laugh, “So check this shit out. Juno an’ I were on patrol. My shift was endin’ an’ hers was startin’ right- So I meet her at one on of the stations, I was just finishin’ my last sweep. And then we get a call on the radio talkin’ bout a buncha kids runnin’ amok down in the east picnic area. So we go runnin’ over and start talkin’ to these kids- one of ‘ems drunk as a fuckin’ skunk- ‘cause of  _ course _ they are- and they take a swipe at me with some pocket knife. I throw my arm up and they cut through the jacket, but they- they miss my skin.” Duck traces the stitching up the sleeve, and huffs a laugh. 

“Juno freaks out, the softie, and calls the sheriff on her  _ work _ radio, and the kids start panickin’. I’m the only one there that knows she didn’t actually call Owens- I’m the only one who knows that line is exclusively low frequency for the park rangers cause of the dead zone. But these kids are shittin’ themselves- and we get ‘em to clean up their mess and promise to never trash the place again. Don’t know if they’ve kept it up, but as soon as they bolt with a trash bag full, Juno is all on me. She pulls a needle out of the inside of her coat, already fuckin’ threaded and she fixes it up right then.” Duck taps it a few times, still smiling fondly. 

“Do you- do you have more stories?” Indrid asks, feeling himself smile too.

“Hell, I’ve been a ranger for twenty fuckin’ years- ‘course I do.” Duck says, he moves his hand up to the fleece collar and taps a dark brown stain that looks like dried blood. “Squirrel.” He says.

“What?” Indrid laughs, “You musn’t- you won’t just leave it at that will you?”

“I could,” Duck smiles, leaning back and grinning.

“But you won’t.” Indrid says.

“Oh, you use your future vision or whatever? If you’re goin’ full moth gimme my good jacket before you eat it.” Duck says, tugging the jacket at it. Indrid tugs back, and both men chuckle.

“What about this one?” Indrid traces the left sleeve, what looks like brown acrylic paint, or mud maybe?

“Paint,” Duck nods, “Some painter was out there when the sun went down and called for help. They freaked out, when I was approaching they thought I was a bear.” Duck shrugs one of his shoulders and talks under his breath- “They were right but not what they were expectin’-”

And Indrid can’t help but belt a laugh at that, Duck hides his own laugh behind his hand. 

“You have a multitude of stories in something as simple as a coat,” Indrid says, taking the other sleeve now.

“I’m a simple man,” Duck says, taking the coat. Indrid hesitantly lets it go, Duck just drapes it right back on it’s hook. “I get somethin’ that works an’ I keep it. I’ve almost got my bag- just gimme a few more minutes. Fig’s bein’ skittish.”

Indrid watches him disappear back into the house, and nods. He drops down to sit on the step and wait. 


	2. Chapter 2

Indrid is in his winnebago when he realizes next. He’s taking down mindless scribbles, ripping down pieces of paper and sending thumbtacks flying as he moves in a haze. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, the low red light of the heaters should make it hard to see. But he’s not seeing, he’s seeing. He sees path after path, seven different opportunities all at the same time, they’re barreling closer and two are favorable, two bring about a death, two involve a major death- and- and one- Indrid tears down another paper. 

He’s breathing deeply as he blinks back into place, things are happening, events are changing- he throws his arm out and tears off five pieces of paper. 

His heartbeat is ringing in his ears, he can feel his wings scratching along his back, his mandibles clacking, his antennae twitching and spinning like his whole disguise is tearing itself apart, disappearing from off his body. He buries his face in his hands, and feels something alien worm from his chest, from his core. It burns and he chokes on a breath that falls into a groan, then a sob. 

Duck would jump in front of a blade- and- his stomach, his chest- Indrid hisses a breath in through his teeth. His head feels like it’s splitting in two, ripping itself apart and opening like a flower blooms. He doesn’t realize how long it’s been- his head is still eviscerating as he pulls himself upright on the side of the couch arm. He flings himself over to the wall beside the door, he knows who it is and fumbles with the lock as he pushes it open. 

But instead of Aubrey Little, he sees Ned Chicane. He squints through one eye at him, and rolls his hand. 

“Aubrey’s injured- Duck- We need help. Do you have any first aid materials? Anything that we can use to patch up a wound.”

Indrid rubs his temples and waves him in, pointing back towards the bathroom. He falls to sit on the arm of the couch, and another pained sob rips through his chest. Everything is pulsing as Indrid fights to keep himself from losing control- Then there’s shuffling outside.

“Ned!” A voice calls, “Christ- you can’t just run off! Aubrey’s injured we need to-” And Duck Newton pokes his head through the winnebago doorway. Indrid looks up at him, tears spilling down his own cheeks. “Indrid? What’s-” He looks back out of the RV and disappears for a few seconds. “Sorry- we need your couch.” He comes back again, this time Aubrey Little curled up in his arms. She doesn’t look mortally injured, bad off and delirious but no obvious dripping blood. (Although with how humans work, he thinks, that may be worse).

“We were fightin’-” Duck says, laying her down. He presses two fingers to her wrist and counts her pulse for a few seconds, he mumbles the number to himself before he continues. “I got held up-”

“And Ned tried to distract the abomination, give Aubrey a chance to cast and she backfired-” Indrid talks at the same time Duck does, they stop and Duck nods. Indrid has never been so happy to poorly imitate Duck’s thick accent. His headache is slowly dripping away as he wipes his tears.

“Right. Futurevision or whatever.” He says. “Listen- We just need to make sure she’s okay, okay? Give us twenty minutes and we’ll be outta y’r hair.” Indrid watches him move, he lays Aubrey out and rolls her palms up, her checks her pulse at her neck and carefully opens one of her eyes. 

Indrid hears some murmurings after a few minutes, Duck pulls a small flashlight out of his coat and tests her eyesight. She rolls her head and looks at him, Duck speaks completely calm and normal.

“Hey, good morning torchgirl.” He says, gently grabbing her chin when she tries to roll her head away. “No, no. Can’t do that-” He looks over his shoulder and yells “Ned!” and then turns back to Aubrey. “How ya feelin’? What’s goin’ on in there.”

She mumbles something and Duck talks quietly back, Indrid stays back to let the humans function. He wipes tears from his eyes. Duck is speaking, a long string of questions with mumbled answers in return, Indrid can’t quite get the words but even when Ned returns Duck is straight to the point, he’s clear and direct. When Aubrey shows clear coherence Ned is the first one to talk.

“She seems alright, let’s treat you.” He puts a hand on Duck’s shoulder.

Duck looks up at him, and nods, “‘fore the adrenaline wears off.” And he shrugs off his thick coat before the room stinks of blood. And Indrid watches, because Duck’s shirt is slashed across his back. Bone isn’t visible, and his coat seems to have offered some pressure- but he is bleeding. And he is bleeding.

Ned rips at his beige polo, he wipes smears of blood up with towels and throws them to the floor. Indrid finally can move, he walks forward and falls to his knees next to Duck. 

“It did happen-”

“I saw it too-” Duck breathes, pushing his forehead into the worn out cushion next to Aubrey’s arm. He winces as Ned gets to work- Ned has a pair of scissors that he uses to cut Duck’s shirt open so he can wrap the bandage around his chest. Indrid pauses when he sees a set of scars running under Duck’s pecs, but he says nothing. “I saw me gettin’ sliced up like a fuckin’ candlenights ham-” He breathes.

“But you-” Indrid starts.

“I turned around.” Duck says, tensing as Ned ties the wrap off at the back. 

Indrid has no idea what to do, but he puts a hand on Duck’s- he squeezes as Duck finally starts to relax and sink into the floor. Duck takes his hand and holds it.


	3. Chapter 3

“You grew up in Kepler, yes?” Indrid asks, sipping from his mug of eggnog. His feet are up on Duck’s lap as they sit in the winnebago. (One way or another Indrid had shuddered himself into Duck’s jacket and he can’t complain-)

“Yeah,” Duck says, rubbing the bottom of his nose. “Bit of a burnout.” He says.

“You weren’t the bookworm who found the company of plants more entertaining than humans?” Indrid teases, taking another sip. Duck rolls his eyes.

“No- I wasn’t a fuckin’ nerd. Failed most of my classes.” He says. “Had a lot goin’ on, ‘least I had Jane and Juno. Just barely managed to get into Kepler community-” and he waves his hand. “More interested in smokin’ weed and skatin’ than thinkin’ bout my future.”

“Elaborate?”

“Minerva showed up to me when I was fifteen, then eighteen. Fuckin’ _hated_ _her_ _guts-_ ” He pauses. “But I didn’t listen. I didn’t give a shit about my destiny cause I figured I’d be dead before twenty five.” He says.

Indrid watches him. He presses his cheek into his hand and leans on the armchair of the couch. “Fought my destiny- ignored it for nearly the rest of my life. Now that I’m here, I wish I hadn’t- y’know? But I’m also glad I did. I’d-” he wheezes a laugh just briefly, “I’d be fightin’ monsters before Aubrey was  _ born-  _ and it’s just complicated. Not happy about the whole life endangering side work and lying to my friends- but I’m glad I’ve got this,” he pats the fat on his stomach and Indrid snorts. “To keep me safe.”

“You saw your future, but you still ignored it and changed it.” Indrid says into his mug.

Duck nods.

“Maybe not the smartest decision but a very you one at that.” Indrid smiles, and Duck rolls his eyes again. Indrid can see the complex emotions working their way across Duck’s face though- can see his thoughts that make him fiddle with his hat and rub his thumbs across the brim.

“You are here now.” Indrid says.

“I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been me falling in love with Justin's pc yet again! If you enjoyed please PLEASE leave a comment, I haven't written for Amnesty in forever but I really enjoyed this.


End file.
